Butterflies and Hurricanes
by JustYourAverageRavenclaw
Summary: Witness the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs; the four friends known as the Marauders. During the growing regime of the Dark Lord, can they stay true to each other- and themselves? T for safety; Future R/S
1. Year One: Days of Summer

**A/N: Hello, and welcome to the very first chapter of Butterflies and Hurricanes, a Marauder Fan Fiction. I hope you like it as much as I do so far :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it—but if I did, I doubt I would be writing this. I would be working on an eighth book.**

**Many, many thanks to my two wonderful betas, Whiteferrets and shyansworld! You guys are the best. Extra thanks to Whiteferrets, who marvelously edited the second half of this chapter for me :)**

**Butterflies and Hurricanes Chapter One: Year One- Days of Summer**

**Sirius Black:**

Number 12, Grimmauld Place had been in the Black Family's possession for centuries. It was buried in Dark Magic and littered with Dark Artifacts, so it didn't seem like an ideal place for children to grow up. But nevertheless two brothers did grow up there—two brothers who, though similar in looks, were as different as night and day. Who was night and who was day, however, had yet to be determined.

When they were younger these brothers had been inseparable. But now, Sirius, the eldest by two years, would be heading off to Hogwarts like all wizarding children, and Regulus would be left all alone in that big, Dark house.

o.0.o

"Do you have to go, Siri? Can't you stay?"

Nine-year-old Regulus Black was perched on the end of his brother's four-poster bed, watching the house-elves pack Sirius' trunk. Sirius was sitting cross-legged on the floor, flicking absentmindedly through _Hogwarts, A History._

"'Course I do, Reg. But I'll come back for the holidays, and you'll get to go when you're eleven, too."

"But that's not for two years! That's forever! What'll I do till then?"

"You can write to me. I bet Vulcan needs to stretch his wings, anyway."

The boys fell silent for a moment, watching the house-elves bustling back and forth. Then Regulus spoke.

"D'you think you'll be in Slytherin, Siri?"

"Probably. Every Black has been in Slytherin."

"Do you _want _to be in Slytherin?"

Silence. Sirius stared at a drawing of the Grand Staircase of Hogwarts, deliberately avoiding looking at his brother. And then he sighed, puffing out his cheeks in frustration.

"I don't have much choice, do I? Every single person in the Black family has been in Slytherin, why should I be any different? But…."

"But what?" Regulus asked, staring in wonder at his brother, who tossed his shoulder-length hair back and sat up straighter, defiantly.

"But… Reg, I don't _feel _like a Slytherin. I don't like the Dark Arts, and I hate most of our family, 'cept for you, Uncle Alphard, and Cousin Andie. I don't think I'm right for Slytherin. I don't really want to be, anyway."

"But… but what'll Mum and Dad say?"

"I guess we'll never know, because _I'm _certainly not telling them anything. And you'd better not, or I won't ever write to you. Besides, what'd be the point? I'm leaving tomorrow, and then I'll be at Hogwarts and sorted into Slytherin, and none of this will matter anyway. So just don't say anything."

"Okay, Siri. I won't tell."

"Thanks, Reg."

Sirius smiled at his brother and snapped his book shut, threw it down next to his trunk (one of the elves hastily picked it up and packed it away), and bounded to his feet.

"C'mon, Reg, let's go see if the library has any books on hexes."

The two boys raced down the stairs, laughing, all previous turmoil forgotten in a whirl of camaraderie. But one house-elf lurking in the room grumbled to himself: "Young master is unworthy of the Noble House of Slytherin, speaking such words… he will break poor Mistress' heart…"

o.0.o

**Remus Lupin:**

It was a new moon today. This was the phase that Remus liked best, because during this time he felt the most normal, the most human. Most of his injuries had healed or were nearly healed; his head was clearer, the wolf's presence not nearly so strong. But he hadn't really been looking forward to today, nor any of the days leading closer to September.

Sure, there would be his mum's homemade vanilla ice cream (his very favorite dessert) and sure, his Dad wasn't working today so he got to spend time with him, but he wouldn't get something every wizarding child gets during his eleventh summer: his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His parents acted like everything was normal. His Mum had kissed him, his Dad had nodded in his direction and opened the _Prophet_, just as they'd done every morning for as long as he could remember. But Remus kept glancing towards the kitchen window, a seed of hope still lodged in his heart, no matter how much he'd tried to beat it down. The entire summer, he'd been on edge, fighting back common sense and hoping an owl would fly into the room, envelope in its beak for one Remus J. Lupin.

'_Maybe, just maybe, they'll forget and send me a letter…'_

'_Don't be stupid. Like they could forget you're a monster?'_

Remus' rational side was going to battle with his dreamy, wistful side, and his rational side was winning.

'_But maybe they don't care. Maybe I will get a letter…"_

'_Just shut up. You're not helping anything.'_

'_But…'_

This inner dialogue continued the rest of the day, though Remus said nothing to his parents. He passed the hours quietly, as always, reading _A History of Magic _and some of his mum's Muggle classics. He was buried in one of C.S. Lewis' Narnia novels, marveling at the fact that this man was a Muggle, when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

Mr. and Mrs. Lupin looked up, he from his _Evening Prophet _and she from her knitting, and glanced at each other in bewilderment.

"Who in the world could be calling at nine o'clock at night?" Mrs. Lupin murmured, dropping her knitting and heading towards the door. Remus set his book down and scrambled after his mother, rounding the corner of the entryway just as she exclaimed, "Why, Professor Dumbledore!"

Remus skidded to a halt in the middle of the entryway. There in the doorway stood Professor Dumbledore in all his silver-haired, purple-robed glory, a pleasant smile on his face and a happy twinkling in his ice-blue eyes.

"Ah, Accalia, it is lovely to see you. I apologize for the late hour; the Minister insisted on keeping me much later than I originally planned. May I come in?"

Mrs. Lupin jumped as though coming out of a trance. "Oh! Oh, yes, of course, Professor."

"Thank you."

Dumbledore stepped through the doorway, looking oddly out of place next to the coat rack and umbrella stand. Mrs. Lupin bit her lip and glanced at Remus. Then she said, "Er — would you like to move to the sitting room, Professor? We'd be more comfortable there."

"Ah, yes, of course. Lead the way," said Dumbledore cheerfully. Remus hastily stepped aside as his mother and the aged professor passed by, and then hurried after them to the sitting room, where Mr. Lupin sat staring at their guest in astonishment.

Mrs. Lupin hurried forward, waving her wand in a single sweeping movement; a stack of books that had been piled on a dining chair rose into the air and flew back to the bookshelf. Remus quickly took this seat, leaving the easy chair open for the professor, who gracefully motioned for Mrs. Lupin to sit down before he did. Only when the whole of the party was seated did Mr. Lupin burst out, "Er, I don't mean to be rude, but what's going on? Why are you here, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled benignly and motioned towards Remus.

"Why, to give this young man something I'm sure he's been wishing for, of course," as if it was the most natural response in the world.

He reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew an envelope made of yellowish parchment, on which a name and address shone in emerald ink.

Remus heard his mother's gasp as if it came from the end of a long tunnel. His head was ringing, his gaze locked on the letter. It couldn't be…. It wasn't…. But it looked so much like it was….

Dumbledore held the letter out. Slowly, acutely aware that his hands were shaking, Remus took it, feeling the stares of every eye in the room on him.

There it was, in his hands, solid proof. The one thing he'd dreamed about for the past six years, the only thing he wished for every birthday of his since he was five. He was going to Hogwarts.

Remus read the letter inside out loud to the silent room, his voice shaking as much as his hands. He was so absorbed in his own shock that once the letter had been read, he was astonished to hear his father's suddenly harsh voice say, "Is this some kind of joke?"

Remus' head snapped up. He stared at his father's livid, stormy face in bemusement. Mr. Lupin was glaring between the letter and Professor Dumbledore, the latter of whom had an unreadable expression on his face as he answered, "No, John, this is not a joke. Hogwarts would be very lucky to have Remus as a student."

Mr. Lupin jumped to his feet.

"Lucky?" he stormed, ignoring his wife's pleas to sit down, "How would having a _monster_ at your school be lucky? He's not normal, he can't ever be normal again, and that's why he's _not going!"_

"John!" Mrs. Lupin cried, reaching up and grasping his forearm, "How can you say that about your own son?"

"HE IS NOT MY SON!" Mr. Lupin roared, tearing his arm from his wife's grasp, his eyes wild and furious. "He ceased to be my son six years ago! He's not normal, Accalia, and you had better stop treating him like he is! Nothing good will come of it!"

Remus sat frozen, staring at his father, an icy pang of hurt shooting through his insides. He had long suspected that his father's view of him had changed once he'd been bitten, but he hadn't expected the truth to hurt so badly; apparently, neither had Mrs. Lupin.

"_John!" _she shouted, jumping to her feet as well to face her husband, anger blazing in her eyes, "_How dare you! _How _dare_ you say that about our boy! Every sort of good can come out of treating him like he's normal, because except for one night a month, he _is _normal! You-"

Dumbledore finally interceded, setting off a firecracker from the end of his wand. He stood up calmly, not angry, but with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Now, John, Accalia, I must ask you to calm down for just a moment. This is not about whether Remus is normal or not—because in my eyes, in _Hogwarts' _eyes, he is. He deserves an education just like the rest of the wizarding world. We will have to make accommodations, it is true, but it is well worth it if he gets to learn the way he should. There is a separate paper in that envelope that will tell you about our plan for Remus. Please send your reply by July 31st. And Remus, I hope I will see you at the Welcoming Feast. Good night, all of you."

Dumbledore, power radiating from every inch of him, tipped his hat gracefully to Mrs. Lupin, nodded to Remus, and swept from the room. They heard the front door open and close, and the distant _pop _of apparation. The sitting room was silent for several more seconds before Mrs. Lupin finally said, "Well, er, Remus, you'd better get up to bed. Your father and I need to talk. Take some books up with you."

Remus, seeing that this was not the time to argue, quickly gathered his books and his letter and, avoiding his father's gaze, wished his parents good night and dashed up the stairs. He was just closing the door when he heard his mother's frosty voice say, "I don't know what's gotten into you, John, but you had better stop it. I will not stand for you talking about our son that way."

Remus closed the door before he could hear any more. The thought of his parents fighting made his stomach hurt, and it was made even worse by the fact that it was his fault. His only consolation was the letter he clutched in his hands. Throughout the night Remus read and re-read it, nurturing the bloom of hope inside his chest.


	2. Start of a Journey

**A/N: Here it is: the second chapter of Butterflies and Hurricanes! Thank you so much, everyone who's reviewed. I tried to send out a personalized thank-you to each of you, but if I missed you, I'm so sorry. I've gotten such a good response from those who have reviewed—thank you, again! And I'm sorry for not updating on Wednesday, like I said I was going to. I ended up hating what I wrote on the Tuesday before that, so I had to go back and get rid of it all. But I really like what I've added now, and it's actually a lot longer—like four pages—than it had been originally. So think of it as a kind of win-some, lose-some situation.**

**Thanks so much to WhiteFerrets for Beta-ing :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it.**

**Butterflies and Hurricanes Chapter Two: Start of a Journey**

**Remus Lupin:**

Mr. Lupin was cold and distant for the rest of Remus' time at home. He and Mrs. Lupin had had a long, rather stressed discussion (which, to Remus' alarm, had resulted in his walking in on his mother crying on more than one occasion) but it seemed that they had agreed to leave off until Remus was at Hogwarts—what would happen after that, Remus didn't want to contemplate. It made his stomach hurt just thinking about it.

But for now, Remus busily prepared for the first day of school. Due to the lack of time between his getting his letter and September first (and a lack of most sufficient funds), most of Remus' things were secondhand, borrowed from friends with older students who had outgrown their first-year things, and a few were even from his parents' times at Hogwarts. One of the only new things he managed to get, however, was his wand. He and his mother took a special trip to Diagon Alley to get it the day before school started. It was eleven-and three-quarters inches, cherry, with a unicorn hair core. It was quite possibly Remus' most prized possession, even more than his Hogwarts letter, which he kept in his pocket at all times—getting increasingly creased as the days went by.

Remus hadn't realized how much he would miss the Lupins' little house. It was a small cottage, with ivy creeping up the sides and a small, rather messy garden in the back, but it was cozy, a safe haven against the world. There was the apple tree in the back that Remus loved to climb on warm summer days, sheltering under the dappled leaves with a book and a couple of apples to munch. There was the shed in the back, as well—that he wouldn't miss so much, but it was still part of his memories of the place.

September first came accompanied with a bright, glowing sunrise, the kind that seems to reserve itself for days when it knows it will give the most comfort. Remus was already up in time to see it; the butterflies in his stomach wouldn't let him sleep past five. He passed the two hours before his parents awoke by packing and re-packing his trunk, making sure every single thing he had was checked off and accounted for. He was forced to eat breakfast by an increasingly anxious Mrs. Lupin, though he was only able to choke down a few mouthfuls of eggs before he stopped, too nervous to eat any more.

"Remus, please eat some more. I don't want you to get hungry on the way there; it's a long train ride."

Mrs. Lupin sighed when Remus shook his head, but nevertheless waved her wand and banished the dirty dishes and pan to the sink.

"Well, we have another hour or so before we should leave. Are you all packed?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Are you sure you got everything you're going to need? Your healing salve and bandages?"

"Yes, Mum, I got it all. And if I run out, Madame Pomfrey will have more."

Mrs. Lupin nodded. They stood there for several more minutes, not knowing quite what to do with themselves. Remus didn't want to say anything, as he could tell his mum was strained, and not just at his going to Hogwarts; his father had not yet come downstairs. Mrs. Lupin's eyes kept darting to the staircase every few seconds, the lines of worry in her forehead becoming deeper with each passing moment that Mr. Lupin did not show.

"Er, Mum?" Remus said, startling her, "Er, sorry. I was just wondering if I could go and… say goodbye, to the house, you know."

"Alright, that's fine. I'm going to go see what's keeping your father…" she trailed off, her expression troubled.

Remus slipped out of the kitchen as Mrs. Lupin started to make her way up the stairs. He walked around the tiny house, trying to commit it all to memory.

He saved the outdoor shed for last. Part of him didn't want to go near it—wanted to run away from it and never see it again, or perhaps smash it into oblivion. But there was another part of him—and maybe it was connected somewhat with the animalistic presence in the back of his mind—that kept drawing him towards the shed.

The shed was small and simple—four wooden walls, a tin roof, one tiny window—but it seemed to loom up, blocking out the sunlight, as Remus approached. He hardly ever went near here in the daytime. Usually, it was only once a month, for his trip to hell.

The door didn't creak when Remus nudged it open, though it was rusty and ill-used. This was thanks to the powerful silencing charm his father had cast over the place—even Remus' footsteps made absolutely no sound. He stared around at the shed's dark, depressing insides, hazy memories of past moons coming back to him as he looked at the numerous bloodstains that littered the floor. There was even a paw print painted in blood on the wall—Remus turned to go as soon as he saw that. It was time to put these things in the past—that was what he said to himself as he shut the door and locked it again. But in the back of his mind, a vicious, muffled presence howled.

o.0.o

**James Potter:**

Potter Manor gleamed in the morning sun that shone through the freshly washed windows, having just been cleaned by the three cheery house- elves that staffed it. The freshly waxed banisters gleamed enticingly…

"James Potter! You walk down the stairs like a normal person! No! Don't— JAMES!"

A small, raven-haired blur came zooming down the banister, flying off the end and landing on the entryway carpet with a loud thump. His anxious mother hurried forward, just as he sprang to his feet, roaring with laughter.

"James, don't do that again! You could have hurt yourself!"

"Aw, Mum, I'm okay," James said, grinning at her and straightening his oval glasses.

"He's fine, Helen, stop worrying so much! Let the boy have a bit of fun."

Mrs. Potter turned to glare at her husband, who was standing by the front door, watching the whole scene and laughing.

"Charles, you're not helping anything! Honestly, don't encourage him!" She turned with a toss of her coal black hair and went back to brushing off James' shirt. She squinted, examined his face for a second, then licked her thumb and scrubbed at a spot of dirt on his chin.

"Mum! Don't do that!" James cried. "Argh!"

James tried to wiggle out of her grasp, but Mrs. Potter grabbed his chin and forced him to stand still; when she finally freed him, he scowled in annoyance and stomped into the hearth room. One of the house-elves was waiting by the fireplace, clutching a small jar of glittering powder.

"The Floo is ready, Masters and Mistress!" squeaked the elf, bowing low after handing Mr. Potter the jar.

"Thank you, Henny."

Henny beamed and scuttled away. Mrs. Potter reached out to straighten James' shirt and attempted to smooth his hair, though she gave that up quickly.

"We'd best be getting along," said Mr. Potter, holding out the jar. James took a pinch and threw it in the fireplace; green flames sprang to life, crackling merrily. He stepped in, yelled, and with a whoosh, he was gone. Henny reappeared in the parlor, a trunk and owl cage floating after her. Mr. Potter caught them and stepped into the floo, disappearing with a word like his son. Mrs. Potter was the last, smiling her thanks to Henny as she went.

The exit point where the family met again was in a small, dusty room at King's Cross station. The people passing by, Muggles the lot of them, paid the little family no attention as they stepped out into the crowd, making their way towards Platform Nine and Three Quarters. James ran ahead of his parents, weaving in and out of the crowd, and disappeared through the arch way before they could catch up.

James grinned as he burst through the veil between the wizarding and Muggle train stations. The difference was so… well, different, that it was almost shocking. Where the Muggle side of King's Cross was grey and rather dreary, filled with stressed businessmen and tired mothers dragging screaming children, the wizarding side was almost buzzing with energy, the excitement of the new and returning students floating on the air, nearly tangible. Bright colors were everywhere—the robes the parents and some more stuck-up pureblood children (who would _never _be caught in Muggle clothes) wore, the bright scarlet of the train. Even the steam that wafted over their heads had a faint blue tint to it. Noise was everywhere—students shouting greetings to friends they hadn't seen since the last school year, owls screeching, parents giving last minute instructions. And speaking of parents…

"James Potter!"

James winced and turned slowly around to see his mother standing behind him, arms crossed, an 'I-am-SO-not-amused' glare on her face.

"Er, hi, Mum," he said as his father came through the wall right behind his mum. Mr. Potter was panting, clutching both the trunk and owl to him. James felt a rush of guilt; he'd forgotten that his parents had had to carry his luggage when he'd run off.

"James, just what did you mean by running off and leaving your father and me with your things? I'm of half a mind not to let you on the train at all."

"I'm sorry, Mum! Honestly! I just forgot, is all."

Mrs. Potter snorted; it was a strange thing to hear from the small, motherly, rather domineering woman.

"You forgot. Well, be sure that it doesn't happen again, alright?"

James nodded earnestly. "I promise!"

Mrs. Potter chuckled and shook her head. "Honestly, James, sometimes I just don't know what to do with you."

"Well, getting him on the train would be a good start," said Mr. Potter, coming up behind her, having just placed James' trunk on the train. "They're going to start letting people on in a few minutes."

Mrs. Potter looked suddenly as though she were about to start crying, much to James' alarm.

"Mum, I'll be okay, it's just Hogwarts," he said, when she grabbed him up in a hug so fierce he was sure his ribs would never be the same.

"I know you will," Mrs. Potter sniffed once she had released James. She reached up to wipe a stray tear off of her cheek, and smiled tremulously when Mr. Potter also caught James up in a hug (this one not nearly as fierce as hers).

"Be good, son, alright? Make friends, get good grades, and try not to get up to too much trouble, alright?"

"Yes, Dad. Bye, Mum. I'll write, I promise."

Mrs. Potter could only nod and smile as James broke away and dashed to the train, ran up the steps, and turned for one last grin and wave before he disappeared into the train car.

o.0.o

**Sirius Black:**

Departures were always odd things in the Black household. Sirius, at least, could never truly feel any remorse for his or their goings, so any proclamations of "Oh, I'm going to miss you so much," or "Come back soon," went promptly out the window. Combine this with the fact that the outright showing of any 'weak' emotion (basically, any emotion besides disdain or cruelty) was severely frowned upon, and you get some very strange good-byes.

The only person that Sirius felt even the slightest bit of remorse for leaving behind was Regulus. He really was a pretty good brother, if a bit naive. One couldn't really blame him, though; after all, he was only nine years old, and lacked some of Sirius' stronger, more rebellious qualities. Sirius could only hope that what strong qualities Reg had were enough to get him through a year of being alone in that godforsaken house and end up relatively unscathed.

Currently they stood on the platform, in as isolated a spot as they could find with all the people milling about – "Riffraff and Muggle scum," his mother had sneered—and were having a last minute good-bye before he got on the train. Reg was staring up at him, his dark eyes sad and resigned.

"Don't forget me, Siri, okay? You promise?"

A wave of regret rose up in Sirius before he could stop it. A thought of _maybe I don't have to go…_ flashed through his mind for an instant, before he shook it off.

"Of course I won't forget you, Reg. I'm going to write you every week, don't worry."

An impatient, disdainful sound had him looking up and glaring at his cousin Narcissa, who stood a few feet away next to her dark green-colored trunk, her eyes—haughty, proud, everything a Black should be—stating clearly what she thought of their discussion. She had never liked Sirius, though it was no skin off of his back, to be sure. He supposed her dislike had something to do with the time when he was five, and she eleven, and he had somehow managed to tangle a giant bullfrog into her hair so thoroughly that his Uncle Cygnus had been forced to cut most of it off. But as much as he hated Cissy, she had nothing on Bellatrix. Bella just scared him, plain and simple—she was the absolute epitome of what it meant to be a Black, and crazy, to boot. Of course, the craziness probably came from years of inbreeding, but it seemed to make her cruelty even more focused, not less. He'd even seen her once, at a family reunion, practicing her Cruciatus on mice she'd found in the cellar.

"Siri?"

Sirius jumped and realized that Regulus had been saying something to him.

"Sorry, Reg, what?"

"I said, will you write to me after the Sorting to tell me what house you get into?"

"Of course I-"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Sirius bit back a groan and looked up, into the tight-lipped, cold-eyed face of his mother. Walburga had never been one for warmth and affection, evident in the way she gripped her eldest son by the shoulder—Sirius' mind was filled with thoughts of vultures and talons- and looked directly into his eyes as she spoke her next words.

"Of course Sirius will be in Slytherin, and uphold the Black Family name. Because if he is not, and brings shame upon our household, he will be a disappointment. And he knows _exactly _what happens to those Blacks who are disappointments."

Her nails—_talons_—bit harder into his shoulder and he tried not to wince. He remembered earlier in the summer when his mother, the first flames of insanity lighting her eyes, had blasted his wonderful Cousin Andie off the family tapestry, and for no worse crime than marrying a Muggleborn. Sirius supposed that, with his upbringing, he should be as shocked and angry as the rest of them had been, but he just couldn't find it in himself to be angry. He'd even sent a letter to Andie in secret, congratulating her.

The train's piercing whistle sounded, and as if on cue all the doors on the train flew open to begin admitting students.

"Remember, Sirius, that while you at Hogwarts you are to conduct yourself in a manner befitting the Heir of the House of Black. If we find that you have been acting in ways that reflect poorly on your house and your family, there will be severe consequences. Do you understand?"

Sirius had to resist the urge to gulp in fear. Instead he nodded and said in as normal a voice as possible, "Yes, Mum."

"Good."

She retracted her claws from his shoulder and straightened, the 'Haughty-Black-Matriarch' look back on her face.

"Bye, Siri. You're gonna come home for Christmas, right?"

"Yeah, Reg, I will. I'll miss you, though."

Reg smiled slightly and the boys hugged swiftly, awkwardly, unable to say or do anything else under the stern glares of their mother, aunt, and cousin. Narcissa swept past, her nose high in the air, and stepped gracefully onto the train. Sirius followed suit, sparing Reg one last grin before he started down the aisle between compartments. There was no way he was sitting with Cissy or any of the other pure-blood stuck-ups he'd been forced to socialize with before. No, he was choosing his own friends, for now at least (until he got to Hogwarts and the Sorting Hat ruined all that).

Most of the compartments were already full, or were occupied by older students who turned their noses up at the prospect of sitting with a first year, so it took Sirius ages until he finally found a compartment that had just one other boy sitting in it—and he was a first year too, judging by the looks of him. He was thin, with wild hair and crooked glasses that gave him the look of a windswept owl. He was absorbed in something, a book of some sort, and jumped when Sirius rapped on the compartment door.

"Can I sit with you?" Sirius called through the glass. "Everywhere else is full."

"Sure," was the reply, and Sirius gratefully slid the door open and tugged his trunk in from behind him. With the other boy's help he managed to swing it up into the luggage rack, being careful not to squash the owl cage that was already there.

"Thanks," Sirius said as he sat down across from the other boy. "I didn't want to have to sit with my cousin and her awful friends. By the way, what's your name?"

"I'm James," said the other, flicking a stray piece of raven-colored hair away from his eyes as he spoke. "James Potter."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Sirius Black."

James frowned slightly, as if remembering something rather unpleasant.

"Black? But aren't you all supposed to be, like, Muggle-haters?"

Sirius scowled, which somehow seemed to reassure James.

"I'm nothing like my family. They're all a bunch of blood-obsessed morons."

James grinned.

o.0.o

**A/N: So, this chapter's actually longer than I thought it would be, but it's still not quite done. However, I'm going to put the remainder of it with the next chapter (the sorting!), as a kind of apology, and so that you can get this faster. That okay with you guys? :)**

**Oh, and I'm not going to beg for reviews. That said, if you would like to review, I only ask that you take the time to tell me what you liked and what you didn't like, and what you think I should change. And if you have any, I could really use suggestions for pranks to use. I've got seven Marauder-filled years ahead; I need as much prank material as I can get. Thanks!**


	3. Let the Games Begin

**A/N: **

**I AM SO SORRY. **

**Sorry, sorry, sorry. I am ridiculous, I know. It's been months since I last updated, and for that I apologize . Things were pretty hectic with school, and band, and various band camps, and auditions for said camps (and choir, which I'm proud to say I made!) . So, so sorry. I hope this chapter's length somewhat makes up for it, though; it's nearly 5,000 words and 13 MS Word pages long, which breaks my personal chapter-length record. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All recognizable characters, places, and things belong to the lovely Ms. J K Rowling.**

**GIANT thanks to WhiteFerrets for beta-ing, and for her advice on exactly what is different between American and British English. :)**

**I'd also like to thank all of you amazing reviewers. You've all been so kind and just plain awesome. Thanks!**

o.0.o

**Butterflies and Hurricanes Chapter Three: Let the Games Begin**

**Peter Pettigrew:**

Peter felt decidedly out of place. This was without a doubt the strangest train ride he'd ever been on. He was squashed in a compartment with half a dozen other students, and seemed to be the youngest by several years. The other students were talking and laughing, though what interested Peter wasn't necessarily the conversation. Instead he found his attention drawn to the sweets they were eating—frogs made of chocolate that hoped much like their real-life counterparts; bubblegum that when blown produced gigantic blue bubbles that floated around the compartment like balloons; sugar coated mice that, when eaten, caused your teeth to squeak like the real things. They were fascinating; Muggle sweets couldn't even begin to compare.

"Hey, you."

Peter glanced up. One of the other students, a dirty-blond haired boy sporting a black and gold striped tie, was waving a licorice wand in his direction.

"Yeah, you. Are you a first-year, then?"

"Er, yeah, I am."

"Know what house you want to be in?"

"I, uh, I don't know m-much about the h-houses," Peter stammered, mentally cursing his inability to talk under pressure.

The boy nodded as if he'd been expecting it, biting off the end of his wand with a rather sage expression on his face.

"Muggle born, then. So Slytherin's out."

"No, Todd," a brown-haired girl in a tie that matched the boy's spoke up, "Remember that Roger kid? He got into Slytherin and he was a Muggle born. What was his name again? Chill-something."

"Chillingworth," mumbled Todd around the rest of the licorice, "But he was a right evil git, it was the only house he could've gone to. This kid here doesn't look like a bad sort. Hey, what's your name, anyway?"

"P-Peter Pettigrew," he said. Every eye in the compartment was suddenly fixed on him; it felt like he was in the glare of a thousand spotlights.

"Right then, Pettigrew, what've you heard about the houses?"

"Uh… there was a woman who c-came to talk to me and my mum, she said something about there being… four? Yeah, four of them. They had weird names." As he talked, Peter's confidence seemed to grow, and his stutter disappeared.

Todd snorted. "Those 'weird names' are the names of the founders of the school. You're right, though, there're four. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff," he said, ticking them off on his fingers as he went. "Each house has its own colors and mascot—Gryffindors, the Lions, are scarlet and gold; Slytherins, the Snakes, are silver and green; Ravenclaw, the Eagles, are blue and bronze, and Hufflepuffs, the Badgers, are gold and black." He gestured to his tie.

"There're also traits that define the different houses," the girl from before chimed in, "For example, Hufflepuffs are known for being fair, hardworking, and generally kind to everyone. People say we're just a house for the extra people, but don't believe everything you hear. Hufflepuff's just as important as any other house."

"And Ravenclaw," said a pale girl with wispy blonde hair and large blue eyes, whose tie was the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw, "is known for being a house for people who enjoy learning, and generally value education as one of the most important steps in life. We're not just a bunch of smart stuck-ups, you know."

"Okay…."

Peter was feeling a little overwhelmed but still listened in rapt attention as a stocky, dark haired boy (though he was much closer to a man than a boy), who had a small badge inscribed with "HB" pinned to the front of his robes, began to explain Gryffindor. It seemed to be a house for loyal, brave people with no real sense of self-preservation, though that last bit could have been sarcasm, as the boy was wearing a scarlet and gold tie.

"What about Slytherin?" Peter asked, staring around at the strangely sour looks on several of the others' faces.

"Well, Slytherin is… Slytherin has several redeemable qualities," said the Gryffindor boy again, who raised his voice slightly over the snorts from many of the others. "No, it's true! They're known for being cunning, and resourceful, which are very important."

"Unfortunately, they're also a bunch of evil little snakes," muttered Todd, who rolled his eyes when the Gryffindor boy shot him a glare. "What? You know it's true. See, Pettigrew, the thing about Slytherin house is that most of them are pure-blooded bigots. They think that the only people that should be allowed to go to Hogwarts are the ones who can trace their family's magic back at least five generations."

"You shouldn't be filling his head with prejudice, Todd. He doesn't know any better," the brown haired girl admonished. Todd simply rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, Pettigrew, now that you know about them, what house do you think you'll get into?"

"Uhhh… well, I think Slytherin and Ravenclaw are out, and I don't know about Gryffindor, but I don't really mind hard work. Maybe Hufflepuff?"

"Well, if you do make it into Hufflepuff, you'll already know us," said the brown haired girl. "Speaking of which, I don't think we introduced ourselves!"

"Er, no, I don't think so."

"Oh, sorry about that. Well, I'm Amy Peyton, and these are Todd Bridges and Celine Simmons." She indicated the blonde, blue eyed Ravenclaw, who waved cheerily.

"This is Anthony Jones," she said, waving a hand towards the stocky, dark-haired Gryffindor. "He usually goes by Tony, though. See the badge on his robes? That means he's our Head Boy, which is sort of like the top prefect." Amy grinned as Tony ducked his head in embarrassment.

"Oh, and these two strong-and-silent types are Dave Watson and Bob Henry," – two golden-tied boys, who had been quiet through the entire conversation, waved from over by the compartment door. "Dave, Bob, Todd, and I are sixth year Hufflepuffs, Celine is a sixth year Ravenclaw, and Tony is a seventh year Gryffindor. Generally our three houses get along well, or at least _we_ do."

Peter's head was swimming. He doubted very highly that he'd remember this barrage of names. This seemed to show on his face, because Amy smiled and said, "Don't worry about remembering all of our names. You've got the whole year to learn them, and you will, trust me."

"Hey, Pettigrew," Todd spoke up, changing the subject abruptly, "D'you want to learn how to play Exploding Snap?" He pulled a deck of violently colored playing cards out of his pocket.

"Sure."

The teaching and the games that resulted lasted most of the train ride. Peter was quite sure that this was the sort of game that his mother would have had a fit over—it was exciting and rather brutal, resulting in several singed fingers and eyebrows. It felt liberating to be sure that she wouldn't come bursting in and try to drag him away from the others, spouting nonsense about how her "little baby shouldn't be playing such awful games" (which she'd actually said before when he'd been playing with his neighbor's slingshot).

Eventually they had to stop playing and change into their uniforms—the girls went to find the bathrooms to change, leaving the boys in the compartment. Soon they were filing onto the platform, the older boys talking and laughing but Peter himself feeling a little green. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice boomed out over the babble on the platform.

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years, over 'ere!"

"Don't worry, that's just Hagrid," Tony said, coming up behind Peter and noticing how the smaller student balked at the sight of the gigantic, bearded man. "He's very nice; looks a lot fiercer than he is."

Peter looked back at the giant. Squaring his shoulders, he took a step forward.

o.0.o

**Remus Lupin:**

The beginning of the Lupins' car ride to the station was quiet. Remus sat in the passenger seat, toying with the book he'd tucked into his pocket and staring out the window at the countryside. Mrs. Lupin was silent, staring out at the road and not moving but to turn the wheel a bit or adjust gears. The silence was pressing and heavy, but Remus couldn't muster up enough courage to break it. He'd seen the tear tracks on his mother's face.

"Remus?"

He looked up. "Yes, Mum?"

She kept her eyes locked on the road and her hands firmly on the wheel, but she was biting her lip and her knuckles were white.

"Remus, do you… do you remember what your father said the day you got your letter?"

Remus winced. Yes, he remembered what his dad had said—it had been replaying again and again in his dreams for the past week.

"Yes, Mum. Why?"

She didn't answer for a minute. Finally she sighed and said, "Remus… I just wanted to tell you now, so you're not surprised… just… don't expect him to be there when you come home for Christmas."

"He's… leaving?"

"Yes. It's just… it got to be too much for him to handle. He still feels guilty, about you, and he can't handle it. So he's going."

Mrs. Lupin said this all with a horrible, forced calm, but Remus wasn't fooled. Her hands were shaking; the car swerved the tiniest bit. He swallowed.

"It's my fault, isn't it? I was so stupid… Mum, I'm sorry…"

"No!" Remus jumped at how forceful her voice was, echoing through the inside of the car. "No, Remus. Don't be sorry, and for heaven's sake don't blame yourself. This is in no way your fault. It was going to happen eventually, I think."

All he could do was nod. His mother hardly ever shouted, that was more his dad's style, but when she did he knew to listen. No matter what she said, though, he could still feel the self-blame welling up in his gut.

"Remus, I want you to promise me something," Mrs. Lupin said, reaching a stoplight and turning to look at him. "Promise me that you won't let this affect your time at school. I want you to have fun, get good grades, and make friends. Don't dwell. Can you do that for me?"

"Okay, Mum. I'll try."

"That's my boy."

And Remus truly was resolved to try. He shoved the hurt and the confusion to the back of his mind and locked it up, refusing to let any of it show on his face when he hugged his mother goodbye and hopped onto the train. And later, when he stuck his head into a compartment with another lost-looking girl and asked if he could sit there, (she beamed brighter than he'd been expecting) he thought that he was already making some sort of progress.

Maybe.

o.0.o

**Sirius Black:**

Hogwarts was _incredible. _As soon as they'd stepped off the train they'd been ushered into tiny boats by a huge man (a giant!) and crossed the lake that looked like black glass, shining and reflecting the lighted windows of the gigantic, pale-stoned castle. The boats barely fit four people, so Sirius and James ended up crammed in with a small black-haired girl who looked about ready to pass out, and a quiet sandy-haired boy who didn't say anything, just stared up at the castle with eyes as big as dinner plates. Sirius thanked his lucky stars that they hadn't ended up with that bossy ginger or her annoying, greasy haired sidekick, although he'd love to have the chance to taunt 'Snivellus' again. The boy just made his skin crawl—he reminded him too much of the family he'd left behind, all Dark Arts and Slytherin worshipping.

The boats bumped up against the rocky shore. They jumped out—"All righ', you lot, follow me!"—and bobbed after the giant like a line of ducklings, some students tripping over long robes or nearly running into each othe, because they had their heads tilted back to look at the castle and couldn't see where they were going.

The giant raised one of his massive fists and knocked—once, twice, three times—on the castle doors. There was a split second of silence, and then they opened, sweeping inwards with a _whoosh_. A tall, imposing witch stood precisely in the center of the entrance, hands clasped behind her back. She stared at them all through rectangular glasses; her sharp, green-eyed gaze seemed to linger a second longer on Sirius than it did the others, though he couldn't be sure.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," rumbled the giant, ushering them up the steps and into the hall. They grouped together in a frightened clump, staring around at all the portraits and the huge, sweeping staircase.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here."

The giant—Hagrid—nodded, disappearing up the stairs with less noise than Sirius had expected from someone so big.

"Now," said Professor McGonagall, "In a few moments, I will lead you up those stairs and into the Great Hall. You will be Sorted and placed into one of the four houses, which will act as your family for your time here at Hogwarts. You will sleep your house's dormitories, take classes with the rest of your house, and spend your free time in your house's common room. The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin; each has its own noble history and has produced many notable witches and wizards."

She went on to explain the points system, which Andromeda had explained to Sirius ages ago; he tuned the professor out and began to look around at his classmates. James was standing a few feet away, staring up at Professor McGonagall with a slightly glazed look in his eye; Sirius could tell he wasn't listening to a word she was saying, and he grinned slightly.

"Mr. Black?"

Sirius jumped and looked back at McGonagall, not bothering to wonder how she knew his name.

"Yes, Professor?"

She gave him a stern glare from behind her glasses.

"Were you listening to what I was saying, Mr. Black?"

"Yes, Ma'am, of course I was." A few of his classmates giggled nervously.

"What are house points, Mr. Black, and what are they used for?" McGonagall seemed confident that she had caught him; it was all Sirius could do to hide a smirk.

"House points are what professors award when we do something good, or take away if we do something bad. At the end of the year the winning house, the one with the most points, gets the House Cup."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm. You are correct."

James turned and shot Sirius a grin and several of the other students snickered. McGonagall cleared her throat and recalled their attention.

"Follow me, please."

She led them up the staircase and through another pair of massive doors, and into a room that had to be at least as long as two quidditch pitches. Four long tables ran the length of the hall, and on a raised dais was the professors' table, with Dumbledore—that had to be him, his beard was so long it looked like he'd tucked it into his belt—sitting in the center, in a seat that closely resembled a throne. Candles bobbed in the air a few feet above their heads, and the constellations twinkled from above in the enchanted sky that served as the ceiling. They followed McGonagall down the center aisle, trying to ignore all the stares from the older students. They came to a stop in front of an old, patched hat that stood on a stool in front of the professors' table.

"This," called McGonagall, speaking now to the entire hall, "is the Sorting Hat. I will call you up one by one, place it on your head and it will sort you into one of the four houses. But first, it will sing its customary Welcome Song."

The hall was dead quiet, every eye trained on the dirty old hat, waiting. Then suddenly it stirred, a gash just above the brim opened, and it began to sing:

_In lands of old and times forgotten  
Four friends there were, four founders who  
saw a need; an idea, begotten,  
To start a school of magic new._

_These four set off to begin their deed  
Each having an idea in mind  
Knew four houses the school should need  
Names? They used their own, you'll find._

Brave Gryffindor, to his house did go  
Those loyal in heart, strong and true,  
If Lions be at your side, do know  
The battle you wage is won to you.

Sly Slytherin, cunning he,  
prized pure of blood above the rest,  
Clever, cunning, of ancient family,  
There in their dungeons these Snakes do nest.

Ravenclaw, the wisest she,  
chose those strong of mind and quick of wit,  
Learning, to those, most important be,  
The tower of Eagles is closest fit.

Last Hufflepuff, she sweet of spirit,  
Chose not to judge, nor should you.  
To Hufflepuff go those great of merit,  
Toil scares not these Badgers true.

Four founders each did build this school,  
and many years stood tall and proud,  
But Snakes and Lions, as a rule,  
Must part their ways, in silence loud.

Now try me on, don't be afraid,  
Into one of four you will be placed,  
Do uphold their honors, you are bade,  
And together coming dangers face.

The hall thundered with applause as the hat's mouth (Sirius supposed that was what he should call it) closed. McGonagall clapped along with the others and then pulled a rolled-up length of parchment from the folds of her cloak. She turned, cleared her throat (the applause died down) and held up the list.

"Adams, Marianne!"

A small girl with blonde pigtails slowly climbed the steps—her knees were shaking madly, and she practically fell when she sat down on the stool. McGonagall dropped the hat onto her head and it fell down over her face, covering her eyes and coming to rest practically on her shoulders. She sat still for several seconds, and then the hat's mouth-gash opened again. "RAVENCLAW!"

Marianne pulled the hat off and handed it to McGonagall before running down the steps to the Ravenclaw table, grinning widely. The hall applauded again, the Ravenclaw table the loudest.

McGonagall looked back at her list. "Avery, Cadmus!"

A tall, weedy boy walked up to the hat, scowled, and let it slide over his head. Barely a second later, it yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"

Avery smiled (not a very nice-looking smile, either) as he strolled over to the cheering table, sitting down next to a boy who looked like a human boulder. Sirius scowled when he caught sight of Narcissa, who wasn't even bothering to clap, but was instead staring at her reflection in one of the goblets.

And then, McGonagall called out, "Black, Sirius!"

Suddenly it felt hard to breathe. Sirius' heart was beating fast and his palms were sweating a bit, but he managed to stumble up the steps and sit down on the stool, catching a glimpse of the tables and all the staring faces before McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head.

The hat felt old and leathery as it slid down over Sirius' ears and eyes. The inside was a smooth expanse of black, despite the fact that Sirius was quite sure that the rip that served for the hat's mouth was right in front of his eyes. He felt the hat stir and a deep voice hissed into his ear,

"_Ah, another Black, I see."_

Sirius had to resist the urge to scowl. It was only a hat, of course; it couldn't see him.

"_Unfortunately, yes."_

"_Unfortunately? My, my, that's an attitude I haven't seen since Alphard back in 1939. Usually you Blacks are quite fanatical about your loyalty to your family name."_

"_Well, not me. I don't feel like supporting dark, twisted loonies. May I be sorted, please?"_

"_Yes, yes, of course…" _Sirius got a vague impression of amusement from the hat, before it started to search him for qualities that would help place him in a house.

"_Well, as a Black, I would normally place you in Slytherin, but there is something here that the others lack… you have plenty of cunning, yes, but also an impressive amount of bravery, and I believe loyalty, if you had someone worthy enough for it…"_

"_Please," _Sirius found himself begging, "_Please, place me anywhere you want, even Hufflepuff. Just not Slytherin. Anything but that."_

"_Slytherin would not suit you, boy, I see that now. No, I think the best house for you will be _GRYFFINDOR!"

From what seemed like a great distance away, Sirius heard the hat shout its last word to the Hall. His ears didn't seem to be working properly; they felt like they were full of bees. He sat stunned for several seconds before his thoughts caught up with what the hat had said.

_Gryffindor._ He was in Gryffindor, not Slytherin!

Sirius jumped up from the stool, a grin threatening to split his face in half as he whipped the hat off of his head, handed it to a stunned McGonagall, and ran down the steps to the tables. The whole hall was filled with hissing whispers and there were glares emanating from the Slytherin table that, if looks could kill, would strike him dead right there, but Sirius didn't care. He flung himself down at the Gryffindor table, ignoring the stares from the older students, and looked back at the line of first years. James was grinning at him, and when he saw Sirius looking at him, he flashed a quick thumbs-up.

"Well… Yes, well, let's continue the Sorting, thank you," said McGonagall, who still looked rather stunned. She turned to the list once more—"Connor, Abigail!"

The line continued to get shorter and shorter as more students were sorted—"Evans, Lily," the ginger girl he and James had met on the train, became a Gryffindor as well, but she turned her back to Sirius when she sat down. The quiet, sandy haired boy that had been in Sirius's boat—"Lupin, Remus," apparently—had nearly fallen up the steps in his too-large robes when his name was called. He sat under the hat for longer than most of the others, nearly as long as Sirius, before it declared that he, too, was a Gryffindor. He seemed to be shaking as he took off the hat and placed it carefully on the stool again, and then made his way to the Gryffindor table, this time mindful of his robes.

Sirius had expected James to be the next Gryffindor, but the boy who went two people before him—"Pettigrew, Peter,"—joined their table after the longest sorting session yet. It was Sirius's personal opinion that Pettigrew, being small and chubby, with a definite green tint to his skin, didn't quite seem like Gryffindor material. Then again, as a Black, neither did Sirius, so who was he to judge?

"Snape, Severus," the greasy-haired, big-nosed boy that he and James had dubbed "Snivellus," became a Slytherin, just as he'd wanted and they'd expected. He chose a seat, much to Sirius's disgust, next to Lucius Malfoy, the smarmy, smooth-tongued git who was dating Narcissa. How anyone managed to fit into a seat next to a head that big was a mystery.

And then, finally, with "Yancy, Suzanne" being the last Hufflepuff to join the table, the Sorting ended. McGonagall whisked the hat away, and as soon as she had taken her seat again, Dumbledore stood up. The talking that had been going on amongst the students (mainly complaints of hunger from the older ones) ceased immediately.

"Welcome," Dumbledore said, spreading his arms wide. "There are many announcements to be made, but I daresay they will be more closely listened to on a full stomach. And so," he clapped his hands twice, "tuck in!"

Sirius turned to look at the table, and his jaw dropped. Where before the gleaming gold and silver platters had been completely empty, now they were heaped high with wonderful looking food- roasts, pies, potatoes… the list went on and on.

He had a feeling he was going to like Hogwarts.

o.0.o

**Remus Lupin:**

It has been proven throughout history that food is an excellent way to distract a boy from his troubles, and Remus was no exception. All of the worries that had been battering themselves against his skull- his dad's leaving, how his mother was handling it, and of course the ever present werewolf one—quieted as he inhaled as much roast chicken and mashed potatoes as possible. All the students around him were chattering happily to one another as they ate, but Remus stayed silent. The girl he'd sat with on the train had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and everyone else in his immediate vicinity seemed to know each other already, so it seemed that it would be best to let them carry on their conversations and not try to butt in.

After a while, the feast began to come to a close, and the food was replaced by an array of desserts just as wide. Remus was munching happily on a piece of peanut brittle when Dumbledore stood, silencing the hall once more.

"I hope," he said, smiling down at them, "that you all have enjoyed our marvelous feast. Now, I must ask for your attention for a few announcements, and then you will be off to your dormitories."

"First, I would like to welcome a new addition to our staff, Professor Whitehall, who will be taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

A young woman with long, dark brown hair and a cheerful smile stood up from where she was seated along the staff table and waved at the polite applause. Dumbledore waited until she was seated again before continuing.

"Second, I must again say, as I do every year, that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to _every _student. If you are caught entering it without express permission from your professors, there will be severe consequences. You are also warned that there is a new addition to the Forest that only serves to reinforce this rule; the Whomping Willow. This tree, while remaining dormant if left alone, can be violent and has the capability to inflict serious damage if provoked. You are warned to stay far away from it."

Dumbledore's expression had become very serious by the end of this speech, but now he smiled brightly and said, "And now that the announcements are all taken care of, it's off to bed! Prefects, please escort your first years to the dormitories."

Remus scrambled to his feet as all around him students stood and began to head out of the hall, a great wave of chattering and laughing people that left him a bit overwhelmed. There was a girl's voice shouting over the din, "Gryffindor First Years, over here, please!" Remus began to wade his way through the crowd. The voice, it turned out, belonged to a small, slender girl, who had a 'HG' badge pinned to the front of her robes—the head girl. She smiled at the little knot of confused first-years that had formed around her.

"Are we all here?" she asked. When no one said anything, just stared at her with wide eyes, she smiled and clapped her hands once. "All right then. My name is Elise, and I am the Head Girl. I'll be showing you the way up to the dormitories. Now, let's get you all up to the tower!"

Elise walked briskly, with the first years trailing after her like a flock of baby ducks. The climb up to the tower was long, involving many staircases (and an incident with a trick stair) as well as many portraits that called out greetings and frightened a couple of Muggle-born students nearly out of their wits.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a huge painting of a rather fat woman in a pink silk dress, who smiled down at them all and said, "New first years, are you? Welcome to Gryffindor Tower! Do you have the password?"

Elise turned to them and said, "This is the Fat Lady. She is in charge of guarding the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, and you can't enter unless you know the password, which is Godric."

The Fat Lady smiled and swung forward to admit them. The first years clambered through the hole in the wall and into a very cozy common room, decked out in tapestries and scarlet armchairs and sofas.

"The boys' dormitories are up the staircase to the left. The girls', to the right. All your belongings should be up there already. You should all go to sleep soon, so that you're not too tired for classes tomorrow. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to come to me or another prefect. Now, up to bed! Good night!"

Elise's voice was almost ridiculously cheery, but it was kind of nice to know that at least she was putting effort into her job. Remus trailed up the stairs after the other boys, realizing suddenly how tired he was.

The dormitory was cozy and warm, and the scarlet-curtained beds looked extremely inviting to the four exhausted boys who trooped through the door. They got ready for bed in silence, a combination of unfamiliarity and tiredness stopping any of them from trying to make conversation. _Tomorrow, _Remus decided, as he slipped under his covers, _we can talk tomorrow. Right now, I'm going to sleep…_

o.0.o


End file.
